


such a pretty face (in her wedding gown)

by rockygetsrolling



Series: the bizarre and beautiful life of james w. gordon [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Gotham Central
Genre: Batfamily Shenanigans, Canon Disabled Character, Dancing, Dirty Dancing References, F/M, Gen, Gratuitous Brooklyn Nine-Nine references, Just Good Wholesome Fun, Music, The Batfamily And Friends Have A Good Time For Once, The Gordons Having A Nice Time For A Goddamn Change, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 21:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20570918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockygetsrolling/pseuds/rockygetsrolling
Summary: Babs’ eyes soften, and she takes her father’s hands in hers. Jim feels that odd rip in his chest, the one that a father feels on his daughter’s wedding day—the fear of letting her go versus the comfort of knowing that she’ll be loved the way she deserves to be. It makes his sternum ache and it makes his heart soar at the same time, something Bruce succinctly called “The Father Of The Bride Paradox.”OR: Dick and Babs get married and it's about goddamn time.





	such a pretty face (in her wedding gown)

“Dad, really, it’s okay, you don’t have to have a conniption over this.”

“I know, I know,” Jim says. “I just want this day to be perfect for you. It’s what you deserve.”

Barbara smiles at him in the mirror as he fastens her necklace against her neck. “Daddy, it’s already gonna be perfect. You’re here, all my best friends are here, Dick is here. It’ll be just perfect, the way it should be.”

Jim finishes clasping the necklace closed and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I know it will be. I guess I’m just ornery about making sure it stays that way.”

Babs laughs. “For what it’s worth, I believe in you.”

Jim takes a step back to look at her, awestruck; she’s dressed in a long, mermaid-style wedding gown, the bottom hem decorated with an opalescent digital pattern, her hair swept up into an old-fashioned French knot and dotted with rhinestone-tipped bobby pins, her train fastened neatly to the back of her wheelchair.

She looks so stunning, it hurts.

“God_damn_it,” he whispers. “You’re gorgeous, you know that, kid?”

“Wonder where I got those genes from.”

Jim shakes his head. His face hurts from smiling so widely. “Certainly not my side. Must’ve been Velma’s side, huh?”

Babs’ eyes soften, and she takes her father’s hands in hers. Jim feels that odd rip in his chest, the one that a father feels on his daughter’s wedding day—the fear of letting her go versus the comfort of knowing that she’ll be loved the way she deserves to be. It makes his sternum ache and it makes his heart soar at the same time, something Bruce succinctly called “The Father Of The Bride Paradox.”

“Dad,” Babs says, “you’ll be here through it all, right?”

Jim crouches down, looks her in the eye, and leans forward to kiss her forehead. “Without a shadow of a doubt, Barbara Joan. Besides, you owe me a dance.”

Babs smiles so hard her eyes scrunch up, and she kisses her father on the cheek. “You're damn right I do.”

There’s three sharp raps at the door, and Dinah doesn’t wait for an answer before popping the door open and poking her head inside. She looks quite lovely, too, her hair pulled into a hairstyle reminiscent of the Greeks, swathed in a dress with a black top and a long green skirt. Still—and Jim is definitely biased here—she’s not his little girl.

“Hey, bunches,” she singsongs, “the procession is about to begin.”

“Oooooooooh shit,” Babs says out loud, a nervous giggle trailing behind her words.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, I promise,” Dinah declares as he steps into the room, hugging Babs from behind. “I gotcha covered. And if Dick gets any smart ideas—”

“I get first dibs, then my dad, _then_ you,” Babs reminds her.

“Bruce is right after Dinah, right?” Jim quips.

“Is he?”

“I’m pretty sure. That’s where he sees himself, anyway.”

Dinah holds in a laugh. “Sweetheart, we gotta get a move-on.” She looks up at Jim as she stands and plants her hands on her hips. “You ready to go, Jim?”

Jim inhales slowly, sharing a smile with his daughter. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

He takes her hand, and they follow Dinah out the doors and down the hall, into the enormous Ceremonial Rotunda of Gotham City Hall, where dozens of people are clustered in the stairs leading up to the platform at the top. Ahead of them, Dinah slides her arm into Wally’s—Dick’s best man—and they climb the steps in tandem, grinning at each other almost conspiratorially. 

Jim steps behind Babs’ wheelchair at the bottom of the ramp. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

They start the climb working as a team: Babs pushing her wheels forward, Jim pushing her chair from behind. He barely glances to the sides of the many people gathered here to witness this, because he has eyes for only two people: his daughter and his soon-to-be son-in-law.

Dick looks so shell-shocked, it’s almost comical. His eyes are wide as saucers, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed—Jesus, he looks like he’s about to spontaneously combust. Jim almost laughs, but he holds it in, because he’s almost as amazed and terrified as he is. 

_Almost._ Damn, isn’t that an accomplishment, admitting that someone can love the person you love the most more than you.

At the top of the ramp, Babs turns her chair around and hugs her father, and Jim hugs her back as tightly as he can without being scared he’ll mess up her dress.

“I love you,” he says, “and I’m so, so proud of you. My little Joan of Arc.”

Babs squeezes him hard and kisses his cheek for what feels like the last time, and in some way, it is. “I love you, Daddy. Thank you for everything.”

Jim smiles as he pulls back, slipping away from where Dick is taking his little girl by the hand, where he’s mouthing _Holy shit, you’re gorgeous_ to her, where Babs beams like a constellation against the dawn at sea.

He falls in place with Bruce on one side, Sarah on the other, and he slides his hands into both of theirs and squeezes.

“It’s really happening,” Sarah whispers in his ear.

“Truly happening,” Bruce mutters, and Jim elbows him in the ribs. 

“Shh, it’s surely happening now.”

Judge Mercedes Hunter, a lovely woman and a dear friend of Jim’s, smiles broadly out to the bride and groom and the congregation, her dark cheeks rosy with joy. “Dearly beloved, friends and family, we are gathered here to witness and celebrate the union of this man and this woman in matrimony.”

The ceremony progresses as all legal ceremonies do, and even the simplest bits leave Jim’s heart scrabbling for purchase to make a regular beat again. Then Mercedes announces the vows, and he hears Bruce whisper a very quiet, very passionate, and almost fearful, “_Shit_,” and he squeezes his hand again. 

“Relax, kid,” he whispers as Dick pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket. “All will be well.”

Dick clears his throat, the nerves clearly reflected in his eyes as he begins: “There’s a poem out there, one that holds a truth as old as time—_When I saw you, I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew._ To me, that is the truest way to describe how I fell in love with you, because the moment I saw you I knew it would be you.” 

He clears his throat and takes a shaky breath, and Jim feels a bit of calmness settle for Dick’s sake. _You’re okay, kid, she loves you, you’re doing great, just keep going._

“I guess I’d be lying if I said I knew all along. You know how life is. It’s chaos. We never know what’s going to happen. There were times when I lost sight of what I really wanted, and I had to realign myself with my compass to find my true north. Over, and over, the red arrow always led back to the same place, back to you. And not to sound like a cheeselord, but I would walk every path I’ve already travelled and a million more if I could spend eternity with you.”

Babs’ whole face softens, a gentle smile gracing her face, and Jim wants to fist pump with glee. 

“There are days when I don’t really feel like I deserve you, and those days are also what proves it over and over. You’re the patience, the balance, that I need so often when I feel like I’m teetering I’m the edge. You’re the shelter from the storm, the Hotel California to a dark desert highway.”

“Oh my _God_,” Babs says out loud, grinning wildly.

Dick’s smile shifts to match hers. “No matter which way I look at it, you’re my best friend in the world, you’re my partner in crime, and you’re the love of my life. Most people don’t get to be that lucky, and I’m eternally grateful that I was lucky enough to find you. And I’m even luckier that you let me keep discovering you, every day, and I’d be luckiest of all if you kept letting me.”

He looks up at her, beams, and slides a ring on her finger—Martha Wayne’s wedding ring.

Babs shifts in her wheelchair, her eyes alight as she unfolds her own page of vows, handed to her discreetly by Dinah. 

“I would like to start by saying, there’s a bomb at this wedding.”

Jim feels a jolt of shock smack him, and Bruce’s hand tightens in his. “What the fuck?” he hisses.

Babs looks up, directly into Dick’s eyes. “It’s your butt. Your butt is da bomb. There will be no survivors.”

Dick’s whole face goes slack with love, and tears gather in his eyes. “I love you so much,” he whispers.

“Are you _serious_,” Jason says out loud from his place among the groomsmen, and a ripple of laughter that’s one part amused and two parts relieved flitters through the room. Jim pulls his hand out of Bruce’s vice-like grip and pats his shoulder, and he feels the muscles relax under his hand.

“Christ,” Bruce mutters.

“Sorry about that, everyone,” Babs says, but she doesn’t look very sorry. “But I had to. It would’ve been illegal if I hadn’t done that.” She turns back to her vows, still grinning. “But back to basics. When we met, I knew I cared about you. For a long time, I saw you as my best friend, the guy I could count on at all hours for anything. Not exactly boyfriend material, not for a while. But I loved being around you, because you made me happy. You helped me uncover some of the best parts of myself.”

Her smile grows fond, deeply sweet and loving. “I’ll always remember the night on the rooftop with you, just after I was shot, when we listened to Queen for hours and danced on the roof of my apartment building. I think it was the that I realized I didn’t just _love_ you, but I was _in love_ with you, and I think it was then that I realized that maybe you loved me back. And when “Love Of My Life” began to play, you lifted me up and slow-danced me all over the place, and I knew that you did after all. It became so easy, loving you, because I’d been doing it for so long that it was just like being with my best friend, except I got to kiss you whenever I wanted now.

“But even besides that, you helped me heal. It wasn’t easy. It didn’t happen overnight. Even now, I’m still growing from that night. But you helped me. You helped me see myself as an unstoppable force, helped me flourish like a forest, like the sea, like the sky. And through it all, you journeyed right alongside me, never faltering, never abandoning ship.”

She looks up at him, her eyes so slight it hurts to look. “Thank you, Dick, for living up to your name, a catalyst for change. Thank you for being my catalyst to love again—you, the world, and myself.”

She takes his left hand and slides on a band of worn gold—Jim’s wedding ring.

“Fuck, man,” Jim hears Conner Kent whisper somewhere behind him. 

“Same,” Cassie Sandsmark’s voice replies.

Mercedes’ face is shining with glee. “Do you, Barbara, take Richard to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for rich or for poor, for better or worse, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Richard, take Barbara to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for rich or for poor, for better or worse, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

“Them by the power vested in my by the state of New Jersey, I hereby pronounce you man and wife. You may—”

She’s not even done with her final declaration before Babs is in Dick’s arms, held aloft as they seal their greatest promise with a kiss. 

A cheer rises from the gathered, wild applause and whistles rising upward to the massive domed roof. Mercedes doesn’t even bother looking put out, instead beaming and applauding alongside everyone else. She knows how it goes with young newleyweds. 

When Babs pulls away, she throws her head back and laughs, then laughs even harder when Dick swings her around. Dick looks like he’s never been more in love, and Jim feels his heart go out to him. 

_Thank you for loving her the way she deserves to be._

“Jim!”

Jim turns in the direction of Dinah’s voice; she’s already at the bottom of the stairs, grinning wildly as she holds a guitar aloft. 

“The reception!” He calls down to her, and she laughs. 

“Whatever you say!”

The celebration is about to begin.

=

The reception is at Wayne Manor, as one would assume it would be. Almost immediately, Dinah climbs up into the makeshift stage with a few of her more trusted bandmates and greets the gathering brightly. 

“Ladies and gentlemen! Good evening, and if you don’t know why you’re here, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

Laughter ripples around. 

“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, can we get the bride and groom out here for their first dance?”

Jim doesn’t even try to contain his grin as Babs and Dick head out onto the empty ballroom space cleared away, smiling at each other so broadly it _has_ to ache. And when the amp roars to life and the drums hit, they only grin wider. Dick scoops Babs out of the wheelchair, and they swing to the time of the music as Dinah pours her heart into the song. 

_“Such a pretty face, you see her walkin’ around,  
In the middle of the night in her wedding gown…”_

Jim, just for a moment of guilty pleasure, imagines himself behind the drum set or pulling at the strings of the guitar, imagines himself making this music for the most wonderful person he’s ever had the pleasure to know. Babs looks so overjoyed, so free, and Dick is looking at her like she hung the stars in the sky. 

In truth, he couldn’t be happier.

_“Would you know her,_  
_The girl that looks to you?_  
_And would you love her_  
_The way that she loves you?_  
_And would you be there_  
_To help her push on through?_  
_Would you know her,_  
_Is she getting over you?”_

Under the table, Jim taps his foot along with the bass drum, and Bruce shoots him a knowing look.

“You _are_ performing later, aren’t you?” 

Jim winks and holds a finger over his lips, and Bruce laughs.

They dance for a long time until Dinah calls Jim and Babs up for the father-daughter dance, and Babs eyes him fearfully.

“Which one did you pick?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh no.”

The first thing that hits is the techno beat, and Babs starts laughing hysterically. “You’re _kidding_.”

“Well, it never expresses what _kind_ of love, exactly.”

Babs shakes her head. She’s smiling. “You’re such a geek.”

“At least it’s not from a musical this time.” Jim doesn’t even bother trying not to smile.

Dinah steps up to the mic as Jim spins Babs, her voice arcing through the air like falling stars.

_“Oh, I wanna dance with somebody,_  
_I wanna feel the heat with somebody,_  
_Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody_  
_With somebody who loves me!”_

Jim wants this whole thing saved in his memory forever, because Babs has never been so happy before, and Jim hasn’t danced like this in far too long (the last time he did was with Jason to _Dear Evan Hansen_, of all things). When the key changes, Jim lifts Babs up bridal style and they swing the rest of the time, Babs managing a clumsy disco point as Jim grins like a lunatic.

It’s over far too soon, but they’re immediately replaced by Dick, who pulls Bruce by the wrist out into the floor with him. Bruce’s expression is one of simultaneous glee and exasperation, and the second the music begins Jim understands why.

Dick’s head snaps to his father. “You _didn’t!_” he shouts, and Bruce gives one of his rare, precious rounds of legitimate laughter. Because only Bruce would choose “Mamma Mia!” as the ultimate father-son celebration dance, and only Bruce would make the decision to shamelessly sing along with Dick. The dance itself is so exaggerated and bold, because it’s Dick, that Bruce almost seems out of place, but his face is as bright as the sun, his chronic exhaustion having seemed to vanish, his aching joints miraculously healed.

When the song is over, Dick pulls Bruce into a long, massive hug, and Jim squeezes Babs’ hand. 

“Geeks, all of you,” she mutters.

“And proud of it.”

When they finally pull away, Dick backs up like he’s about to make a running jump at Bruce, who remains in place and doesn’t move.

“What are they doing this time,” Selina groans, peering through her fingers.

“Something stupid,” Damian answers immediately.

“Well, duh,” Jason says. “It’s his wedding day. Dick gets a ‘get out of jail free’ card today.”

Dick does a little hop, then goes into a sprint. Someone shouts, “Do a flip!”, but instead, he leaps—

—and Bruce catches him by the waist and lifts him straight up over his head.

“Oh my _God!_” Stephanie shrieks as almost everyone in the room behind to sing: “_I’ve had the time of my life, and I’ve never felt this way before—!_”

“Oh my Jesus Christ,” Babs says, shaking her head incredulously. “They’re really doing this, right in front of me.”

Bruce sets Dick down, wraps and arm around his shoulders, and gives him a hard noogie, and Dick shrieks and does his best to break away, which is close to impossible. In that moment, Jim is reminded of the years when Dick was still the spritely Robin to Bruce’s younger, more eager Batman, when this image was common in the media and by the floodlight on the roof of police headquarters.

Bruce and Dick were friends, brothers, and father & son, and seeing it again makes Jim’s heart warm in his chest.

“Anyone else just get war flashbacks?” Selina cracks, nudging Jim in the side and offering a playful wink.

“Thought I was the only one,” he replies, shooting her a wide grin. 

The day is filled with a million other wonderful events—the Batkids doing the Cotton-Eye Joe in a line to the tune of “Honey, I’m Good,” a rather intense rap battle between Babs and Dinah, Dick, Wally, Roy, Garth and Donna starting a conga line to “September”, Babs slapping an entire piece of cake into Dick’s face—but Jim has to admit, his favorite part is his own performance, however short it might have been. 

He rarely performs in front of crowds, but this time is an exception, and as he plucks the strings of his own ancient guitar to the time of his and Babs’ favorite song, as he catches the look on her face as he sings, he knows it’s the right choice.

After all, it’s the song he wrote for her.

_”If all I can offer is a shoulder to lean on,_  
_If all I can say is that things will be alright,_  
_And if you can just try, just try to believe me,_  
_Then I’ll be your morning glory against the night…”_

When he climbs down from the stage, Babs wraps him up in a huge hug and almost refuses to let him go.

“I love you so much,” she says thickly, her voice shaking, and Jim holds her tight against him. 

“I love you more.” He kisses her cheek, tearstained with love. “I’m so proud of you.”

Babs doesn’t reply, just squeezes him even tighter.

=

“Need a minute?”

“Yeah, you?” Jim says from his place on the back deck, overlooking the dormant, snow-dusted garden behind the Manor. 

“Yeah,” Bruce says, hoisting himself up to perch on the railing. He looks impossibly young for once. “So, it’s finally happened.”

“Finally.” Jim takes a sip of his champagne. “How long until Dinah calls it quits, do you think?”

“This is Dinah we’re talking about,” Bruce says with a huff of laughter. “She’ll keep this up till dawn tomorrow.”

“You’re right.” Jim turns to his counterpart. “Did you guys plan that _Dirty Dancing_ lift, or was that just a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing?”

“Why is everyone asking me that?”

“Because you did the _Dirty Dancing_ life perfectly, and that shouldn’t be possible without practice.”

“It could be—”

“Kid, come _on_, I know you.”

Bruce holds up his hands in a mock surrender. “We didn’t practice that, I swear.”

Jim raises his eyebrows at him as he takes another sip of champagne. “Mhm,” he hums, and Bruce rolls his eyes.

“James, would I lie to you?”

“Probably not, but this is something you would lie about.”

“You can ask Alfred.”

“You know what? I think I will. Maybe.”

Bruce laughs, heavy and long and so rare Jim wants to take the sound and bottle it up so he can listen to it again and again. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen Bruce so relaxed in… hell, he’s pretty sure he’s never seen Bruce so relaxed in his life. 

He places his champagne on a flat space on the railing and sneaks in front of Bruce, sliding his arms around him and resting his cheek on his shoulder.

“You okay?” Bruce asks quietly as he returns the hug, tight and safe like it always is. (Bruce rarely asks for physical contact out loud, but he takes every single ounce of it that he can get, and Jim tries to supply as much as he can when they’re around each other.)

“Yeah. I just want to make sure you are.”

Bruce gives a soft laugh. “I’m fine. And so are they.”

_Oh, Bruce_, Jim thinks. _So are they, indeed._

“They’ll be just fine, B. Don’t you worry.”

“Excuse me?”

They both look toward the door, where Selina’s still-slim silhouette makes a gentle indent in the light. “Hi, sorry to break it up, but it’s time for the last dance.”

Bruce slips off the bannister and gives Jim a wink. “Can’t miss that, can we?”

“No, sir.”

Bruce wraps an arm around Selina’s shoulders—the foot in height difference is endlessly amusing to Jim—and the three of them walk back into the ballroom, where Dinah’s voice is warbling through the air, as old and lovely as time itself. 

Jim quickly finds Sarah at the front of the crowd and slides his hand into hers, and she leans up to kiss his cheek. 

“Quite the view, huh?”

Babs is pressed to Dick’s chest, who’s holding her up with one arm around her waist, their eyes locked so intimately Jim feels like the entire congregation is intruding on them. 

_“Gimme gimme that thing called love,_  
_I’m free now_  
_Gimme gimme that thing called love_  
_I see now_  
_Fly, dove, sing sparrow_  
_Give me Cupid’s famous arrow_  
_Gimme gimme that thing called love…”_

“Quite the view,” Jim echoes as Dinah’s voice sails, as Babs and Dick kiss one last time through the wild outcries of the brass and the rumble of the drums. “Quite the view, indeed.”

_“Aphrodite, don’t forget me_  
_Romeo and Juliet me_  
_Fly, dove, sing sparrow_  
_Give me Fat Boy’s famous arrow!_  
_Gimme gimme that thing! Called! Love!”_


End file.
